Blame it on the Tequila
by Sionnain
Summary: She'll blame the tequila shots in the morning. Pyro and Gambit were only being good brothers. Who knew it'd end up in a bar fight? Set in my Ideology universe, this is humor!fic. MagnetoXRogue, PyroXGambit


"Do you think we should tell him?"

Rogue, Gambit, and Pyro were returning from the mainland on the boat, and Gambit's statement was the first thing any of them had said since the…incident…that had precipitated their rather hasty exit back to the fortress.

"Are you crazy?" Pyro asked him bluntly, from where he was sitting in the front of the speedboat, directly across from her. Usually Rogue liked the way the boat jumped over the wake and that was why she sat in the front, but right now it was making her queasy. She blamed the tequila shots.

She blamed those for a lot of things, come to think of it.

"Maybe," Gambit said with a shrug. He was driving the boat, standing up, the wind catching his long brown duster jacket and mussing his hair. "He'll find out, _oui_? We may as well tell him about it. Besides, doesn't he want us to cause mayhem?"

Pyro gave a sort of sigh and slumped down further on the vinyl seat. "Yeah, for mutant rights. Not a bar fight."

"It wasn't really a _fight_," Rogue pointed out quickly, then winced. "At least, they didn't really last very long against us."

"We're too well-trained. Maybe Magneto'll see it as a compliment," Pyro suggested, looking up at Gambit. "And we didn't get arrested. That's good, isn't it?"

Gambit snorted derisively. "Tell yourself that if you want, _mon ange_. Me, I think we're in for a week of pain—and that's if Magneto's in a charitable mood." He sounded doubtful. 

"Could be worse," Pyro said, giving Rogue an unholy grin. "_We_ don't have to sleep with him."

"I don' feel s'good," Rogue slurred suddenly, leaning over the side of the boat. She was glad when she felt Pyro lean forward and grab a fistful of her jacket, so she didn't fall into the water.

ooooooooOOOOoooooooo

"You did _what_?"

Rogue winced at the tone in Magneto's voice. The three of them were standing in his study, and Rogue was trying very hard not to sway on her feet. She was unpleasantly reminded of the night she'd shown up here, wet and bedraggled and terrified, unable to look at him.

Remarkably similar to _now_, actually.

"They started it," Pyro muttered, and Rogue had to clap her hand over her mouth to stop the hysterical giggle that threatened at hearing him actually _say_ that.

"Who is _they_?" Magneto asked, leaning back in his chair. Rogue dared a quick look at his expression, and then just as quickly glanced away. Bad idea.

"The…um, the humans. The ones we sort of…hurt." Pyro was staring up at the skylight. It was too dark to see anything, but that wasn't why he was looking, Rogue guessed.

"Did you kill anyone?" Magneto rubbed his eyes tiredly, which Rogue figured was what you did when you were a supervillain who learned your minions had just gotten drunk and trashed a bar for no apparent reason.

"I don't _think_ so—" Pyro began, and Gambit finally spoke.

"_Non_. It's just…we may want to avoid going to the mainland. Or anywhere near CJ's bar," he muttered. "For…a long time."

"I don't think you have to be worried about _that_, Gambit," Magneto drawled, and for half a second Rogue thought she heard amusement in his voice. She blinked, but his expression held not a hint of humor. "None of you will be going anywhere for a long time. What did this auspicious fight of yours begin over, anyway?"

"Um…" Rogue coughed, twisting her hands nervously. "It was kind of…my fault."

"Why could I have guessed that?" Magneto waved imperiously for her to continue; at the gesture, Rogue tensed, expecting something metal to strike her. He smirked at her obvious discomfiture but said nothing as he waited for her to speak. 

"Because tequila makes me mean?" Rogue asked, then regretted her lame attempt at a joke at the look he gave her.

"Would you like to see what makes _me_ mean?" he asked her conversationally, and Rogue swallowed nervously.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I really wouldn't."

"Then I suggest you continue."

Rogue sighed. "I _told_ that stupid guy I didn't want to dance with him," she said indignantly, her accent very heavy. "Is it my fault he wouldn't listen? I mean, Pyro was just trying to _help_," she added quickly.

"Yeah. I _told_ that guy she was my _sister_," Pyro added helpfully.

"And um, the guy's friend was very _curious_ about why Gambit was wearing sunglasses, and then Gambit shocked the guy's pool cue—"

"That was an accident," Gambit added hastily. Pyro snorted, and Gambit glared at him. "Unlike your little trick with the cigarette—"

"What was I supposed to do? He was going to swing that barstool at me," Pyro snapped, glaring at his lover. "Besides, he'll live. I'm pretty sure that was a surface burn anyway. His shirt might be stuck to his arm, but he really shouldn't try that with girls and expect it to work."

"Is the place still standing?" Magneto stood up, crossing to the front of his desk. The three of them took a step back in unison.

"Well…mostly. I mean—it was still _there_, wasn't it?" Pyro looked at her, and Rogue cleared her throat before answering.

"Um…I _think_ so. I was, ah—you know. Trying to hide that guy's body in the alley. He was just unconscious," she promised quickly, then winced. "I think."

"It was still there. We're just not supposed to go back. Ever," Gambit added. He was examining his hands very closely. Pyro was staring at the skylight again.

Rogue was the only one who looked at Magneto, who still looked expressionless, but that was probably why he seemed so scary. "I see. Very well. Go to bed, all of you, and sleep it off. No more trips to the mainland for any of you until you can behave more like _homo superior_ and less like _homo sapiens_. Understand?"

"Well, we really _did_ kick their asses," Pyro muttered as he turned to go.

Magneto's voice was very cold. "What was that, Pyro? Did you have something else to add?"

"Nothing, sir," Pyro said hastily.

"I thought not. And the next time you wish to wreck destruction on behalf of Rogue's honor, do the thing properly and don't leave any witnesses. Burn the place down and use the gifts God gave you, would you? Trying to be merciful just leads to problems. Do you understand me?"

They all turned around at that, surprised. Pyro nodded. "Yes. Yes, sir," he amended. He looked thoughtful. "Do you want me to go back and—"

"Time for bed," Gambit said quickly, and yanked him out of the room by the arm. Rogue was grateful Magneto didn't try to stop her from following them. The three of them were quiet as they made their way upstairs.  
"That could have been worse," Gambit said, pushing the door to his room open.

"It will be. Tomorrow," Pyro intoned mournfully.

Rogue didn't doubt that. "Thanks for defending my honor, boys," she said, grinning despite herself. 

Gambit swept her an overdone bow and Pyro winked at her before they disappeared into Gambit's room.

Rogue took a very long shower because she smelled like smoke and cheap beer. When she emerged dressed only in a towel, it was to find Erik standing in front of the window with his back to the room.

Quietly, Rogue began combing out her wet hair, wondering if he was going to make her sleep on the floor.

"You know, I have every confidence that you would have been able to stop some human's unwanted advances on your own," Erik said, still not looking at her.

"Yeah. I could have." She met Erik's eyes in the dark glass of the window. "You know. Had to let the boys feel useful." She rummaged around for her pajamas.

"Is that so?" Erik turned around. His look was severe. "Alcohol is a weakness, you realize. It makes you slow, decreases your response time."

She sighed. "Yeah. I know. Luckily they'd all had more than I did."

He rolled his eyes at that, but said nothing. Rogue gave up looking for pajamas and walked across the room, grabbing his gloves from the dresser on her way. When she stood in front of him, she smiled and dropped the towel.

Erik arched a brow at her at that. "I thought tequila made you mean?"

She twirled his gloves in front of her and nodded. "It does. And um…I was very bad, wasn't I, getting in trouble?" Her face was flaming red, but the alcohol was making her say things she normally wouldn't.

"Yes," he said slowly, then took his gloves from her. "You were."

She licked her lips as she watched him pull on the black leather gloves. "Do you still have those metal cuffs? The ones you made me wear when I first came here?"

"I believe I may have kept them around here somewhere," he said, and a moment later she felt her wrists shackled by the cold metal restraints he'd once made her wear to control her. She felt herself rise up from the ground as he walked her backwards towards the bed.

"I'm gonna be embarrassed about this in the morning," Rogue informed him, breathless.

"Oh, you'll be sorry in the morning, but this will be the least of your worries," he assured her. That sounded ominous. "You have training with Mystique, who will likely be angry your victim ended up unconscious instead of dead."

All the more reason she better enjoy herself now, then, so she'd have something pleasant to think about. She gave him a lopsided grin as he forced her arms over her head. This may not be everyone's idea of _pleasant_, but it worked for her.

She'd just blame it on the tequila.


End file.
